


chicken wangs

by bloopee



Category: GOT7
Genre: Crack, Jackson is an idiot, M/M, What else is new, he is also a buzzkill, if you count a broken bone as something to 'buzz' about, jackson tends to be flirty when his bones are broken, jackson uses the word milf unironically, mark is an insensitive little shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 07:45:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9169210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloopee/pseuds/bloopee
Summary: jackson slips and breaks his leg but they've both fallen





	

"Fuck me!" 

 

The voice rings through the rooms of their apartment and probably the whole building and Mark spills a bit of his popcorn out of the bowl, startled.

 

"Jackson?" He calls his roomate. "Jackson? Is everything alright?"

 

"Fuck me, damn it!" He's still loud and Mark sighs.

 

They're gonna get the police called on their asses for loud noises again. It's 2 fucking AM.

 

"What's wrong?" Mark asks, just loud enough for Jackson to hear from the bathroom.

 

"I don't know, why don't you come and check it out?!" Jackson yells and Mark stands up, ready to slap him.

 

"Shut up!" Mark yells standing in front of the white bathroom door. 

 

It has the word 'bitch' spray painted on it in hot pink. Back from that time Jaebum came over and he and Jackson got high and Mark had to sweet talk the old lady neighbor into not calling the police.

 

For the 4th time this year. 

 

"I can't! I am in an incomparable amount of pain right now. Please, goddamnit, come over here!"

 

"I swear to God, if you're there with your dick out again!-"

 

"I am not, just open the door!" 

 

So Mark does.

 

"Oh geez, Jackson." Mark turns his head away from his naked roomate. "Why are you on the ground naked?"

 

"I slipped and fell for you, what do you think?" Jackson's voice is irritated. "Look at me, Mark!"

 

"I really rather wouldn't," He argues.

 

"Jesus, Mark."

 

So Mark does look at Jackson again.

 

And wow, is he and idiot.

 

"Oh my God, Jackson. I'm calling an ambulance." Mark digs in his pocket for his phone. He takes it out and taps onto the shattered screen.

 

"Don't," Jackson says and Mark stills. "You think it's broken?" He asks, cocerned, and Mark would snort if he wasn't about to pass out from the disgusting sight in front of him.

 

"I don't know, Jackson. Is your leg supposed to bend that way?" And Jackson does snort at this. "Well, does it hurt? If it does - it's broken." Mark decides with a nod and Jackson would honestly laugh, laugh until he couldn't breathe anymore, but he is currently experiencing the arguably biggest amount of pain in his short life ever and that makes the deed a bit difficult.

 

"I'm calling an ambulance," Mark says as he presses call on the number he's already typed in.

 

"No. Hospital's right by here. Let's just go." Jackson takes a jab at Mark's leg from his position on the wet floor and succesfully makes Mark drop the phone. He cuts the call before it's picked up.

 

"Go? Your leg is twisted sideways, how are you not crying yet?" Mark says as he takes back his phone and pushes it in his pocket. 

 

"I'm not sure." His voice is honestly curious. 

 

"Anyways," he says. "Just help me dress up and let's go there, okay?"

 

"Does it not hurt, though?" Mark's concerned, and Jesus fuck, of course he's concerned, his roomate is laying naked before his eyes wih a broken leg. 

 

"Hurts like a bitch," Jackson says through gritted teeth. "But not as much as seeing you talk with Jinyoung."

 

"Funny," Mark says without even sparing a polite laugh and going out of the bathroom to get Jackson some clothes.

 

He comes back and hands Jackson an ibuprofen pill.

 

"Think this'll help?" Jackson asks, serious.

 

Mark shrugs. It's gotta, right?

 

"Cute," Jackson comments before swallowing the pill whole.

 

"You can dry yourself, right? Call me when you need help," Mark says and exits the small room.

 

He hears a desperate shout immediately after the door is closed.

 

"What is it?" Mark sighs as he comes back into the room which, he hasn't noticed before, smells like Jackson.

 

A completely whipped Mark has to wonder why.

 

"I just broke my leg, can you be at least a bit more sympathetic? Where's the compassion?" Jackson asks, his wet hair sticking out everywhere, his face still red from the hot shower.

 

Sure. It's the shower's fault.

 

Everything is the shower's fault.

 

"Help me dry." Jackson stretches out his hand with the towel, so Mark automatically takes it.

 

Then he curses himself for doing that.

 

"I cannot believe the things I do for you."

 

"Don't you mean the things you do for love?" Jackson asks with a giddy smile on his face as he lays down comfortably trying to make Mark's job of patting him dry easier.

 

"Sure." He sounds unconvinced, but whatever. Jackson has time. 

 

Mark tries to do it as fast as he can, firstly because it's awkward as hell. Mark isn't used to patting other men with nice smelling towels.

 

Secondly - his friend has a broken fucking leg and doesn't even act like it.

 

"Don't you dare get a boner right now, or I'm killing you. Twice." Mark asks. Politely. Because he is polite.

 

"And then what?" Jackson tries with a flirty voice and gets his stomach slapped. "Just like 'TT', ey?"

 

 

"How did you even?.." Mark asks as he tries to _un-awkwardly_ pat Jackson's dick dry.

 

"You know, I'd totally give myself a blowjob right now." Jackson raises his head and meets Mark's bored gaze.

 

Sure, he's worried.

 

"Should I?" Mark asks as he tries drying Jackson's thigh.

 

But Jackson is really making it difficult.

 

"Wait, really?! _OW_ , holy shit." He lays his head back onto the white tiles. 

 

"Your leg hurts? Probably because it's broken. Why didn't you let me call the ambulance, remind me?" 

 

Mark pulls on a pair of boxers on Jackson, he forgot if it's even Jackson's or his.

 

"Because the hospital is _right there_ and I'm not about to be sassed by you," Jackson threatens and the only threat Mark feels here is the broken bone in Jackson's body.

 

"Should I get you another ibuprofen?" Mark asks sweetly, going out of the room again, because, really Mark, pants? 

 

Your friend's leg is broken, shorts is what you need.

 

He comes back and fixes the shorts onto Jackson.

 

"Damn, you're exactly my style. Why haven't we married, yet?" Jackson asks.

 

Mark could take a wild guess and say it's not a rhetorical question and Jackson is just an idiot.

 

"Because," Mark starts. "Sit up," He demands and Jackson does as he's told. "Because the law forbids it." Mark pulls the shirt over Jackson's head.

 

"Mhm." Jackson nods, putting his arms through the designated arm holes of his sweet-ass 'Star Wars' shirt.

 

"Then, also, you're straight as the sripper poles of the shows you go see every other weekend." He lightly pats Jackson's cheek and Jackson smiles again, so weirdly lovestruct, with such glistening eyes, Mark could almost swear the thing he's said is a lie.

 

He just pulls the shirt down to cover Jackson's - by God himself - sculpted abs and stands up.

 

"That can be fixed," Jackson says. "I'm bendy."

 

"I can see that." Mark huffs, looking at the disgusting leg. 

 

"So. What now?" He leans against the doorframe.

 

"I'm not sure. Haven't thought that far ahead yet." Jackson shrugs, carefree.

 

"Are you kidding me?"

 

"Mark, I'm seeing white lights right now. It hurts like hell. Don't be angry at me."

 

"What do you want me to do? Kiss it better?"

 

"I can't say that the thought hadn't crossed my mind," Jackson talks. "But no, that's not it."

 

"Alright, this isn't hard. We just magically have to transport you from here to the hospital, no biggie," Mark says, tugging at his bleached hair frustrated. 

 

Jackson is unbelievable.

 

Then again, Mark was the one that fell for it. 

 

Fell for the fact that for once Jackson knew what he was talking about.

 

Just like he fell for Jackson.

 

Just like he always falls for Jackson.

 

"Right? No biggie," Jackson says, sitting on the ground.

 

"No. Wrong."

 

"Okay. What can we do?" He talks with himself. "We can take the wheelchair the cripple has by his door," Jackson offers. "It's always there. Just roll it over here and let's go."

 

"I'm not about to steal some disabled man's wheelchair because my hot idiot of a roomate broke his damn leg. And stop calling him a cripple."

 

"Oh, you think I'm hot?" Jackson smirks.

 

"Jackson."

 

Mark sighs for the _nth_ time this day.

 

"Sorry." Jackson's quick to apologize. "And it's not stealing. We're giving it right back. You can roll it back as fast as you leave me there to get my leg hacked."

 

"Operated," Mark offers, his eyes closed, tired of his friend's antics. "And no, try again."

 

"My leg is broken, fuck morals."

 

"You personally don't need a broken leg to fuck morals. We're not taking the wheelchair."

 

"The baby stroller then, in the closet by the MILF's apartment."

 

"Are you looking to get yourself slapped? Don't call her that, she's married."

 

"And if she wasn't married it would be fine?" Jackson argues. 

 

"It would be _fine er_ , there's a difference."

 

No, it wouldn't. You shouldn't call anyone a MILF.

 

"You could be a MILF, Mark," Jackson says, having the time of his life.

 

"There are a lot of reasons why that wouldn't work out." Mark shakes his head. "Anyway. No stroller."

 

"What?!"

 

"Your fat ass would break it."

 

"My fat ass or my massive dong?" Jackson asks with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

 

Mark thinks for a couple seconds.

 

"Both." He decides. "No stroller."

 

"Damn it, Mark," Jackson says and winces. "My leg is very broken right now."

 

"I can see that."

 

"The shopping cart. Outside. The one Yugyeom rolled over when he was wasted." 

 

Mark really wants to use the shopping cart. He thinks it would be hilarious.

 

And it would, but damn, it is _not_ the time to be thinking that.

 

"I'm getting the wheelchair," Mark says as he trudges out of their apartment and out into the quiet corridor.

 

He passes a couple doors and finds the wheelchair left beside a large empty flower pot. Just sitting there, calling his name.

 

He wheels it back into his apartment and into the bathroom. 

 

Jackson is sitting there, phone in hand. Probably messaging Jinyoung the 'Bee Movie' script again.

 

"Hey beautiful," He greets when he notices Mark. "Help me up?"

 

So Mark does. He wraps Jackson's arm around his shoulder and helps him stand on one leg, gently throwing him down into the wheelchair.

 

Jackson is sat down with a little 'thump'.

 

"Couldn't be more gentle?" Jackson asks.

 

He runs the comb that have just been placed in his hand through his still slightly wet hair.

 

"Sorry, your 'massive dong' is heavy," Mark says as he takes back the comb and places it onto the kitchen counter.

 

He wheels Jackson out of the apartment, locks the door and heads for the elevators.

 

"Wanna try the stairs?" Jackson offers as he pushes the elevator button and the door opens.

 

"Do you want to try the stairs, Jackson?" Mark stands behind Jackson, not making a move in pushing Jackson in the small elevator. 

 

"You're right, it was dumb to ask." Jackson shakes his head. "Next time."

 

"We're not taking this wheelchair ever again." Jackson hears Mark sigh.

 

"The shopping cart, then." Jackson nods to himself. 

 

"The shopping cart." Mark agrees.

 

 

"I forgot it's uphill." Mark pants, still pushing the wheelchair.

 

"You can do it baby, I believe in you!" Jackson shouts and his voice is muffled by the honking of a car somewhere.

 

Mark feels as though his childhood asthma is coming back.

 

"You know. I like you, Mark," Jackson says, and Mark hums. "No, I mean it, Mark. I like you. I'm not sure, it might not be love yet, but who knows." So random. 

 

Mark sees Jackson shrug and he feels himself shrug.

 

And it's weird. It's a weird time for a half-assed confession.

 

Everything is weird with Jackson.

 

The weirdest thing might be, though, that Mark feels weirdly happy.

 

Though it's nearing 4am, and Jackson still seems like he's pumped with adrenaline more than an hour after breaking a bone.

 

It's kinda warm. 

 

And sappy.

 

And Mark doesn't like sappy.

 

So he just smiles like an idiot.

 

Just like Jackson seems to have taught him over the short year of them living together.

 

"I like you, Mark," Jackson repeats.

 

"Okay." Mark agrees, out of breath.

 

He stops pushing to take a break.

 

"Also, I'm not an idiot. Stop calling me that, thank you." Jackson talks, talks about absolute bullshit, like always, but this time, if Mark didn't know any better, he'd think that Jackson's trying to mask his nervousness. "So yeah. Not an idiot."

 

It's only fitting to return his thoughts on Jackson's feelings.

 

"Sure. And I'm a bride." He remembers how Jackson has asked to marry Mark more than once, more than twice. The first time being the first day they've met at a philosophy lecture.

 

"You can be my husband." Jackson offers.

 

Mark starts pushing again. 

 

"And what? Be Mark Wang? So people can call me 'Jackson's wang'?" 

 

They're almost at the hospital now, Mark can see the lit parking lot. 

 

A speeding ambulance with it's sirens blaring drives past them.

 

"Hey, nobody calls me 'Jackson's wang'," Jackson says with little excitment in his voice.

 

It's nice.

 

"No, everyone calls you 'Mark's Wang'." Mark rolls his eyes. 

 

Maybe Jackson should break his legs more often.

 

"Wanna date, 'Mark Wang'?"

 

Mark shrugs, a shy smile on his face Jackson sees in the reflection of the hospital's glass entrance doors.

 

"Sure."

 

Bones grow back together.

 

 

"Uh, hello. This is the reception, right?" Jackson asks awkwardly.

 

The girl by the counter keeps tapping at the computer's keyboard.

 

"That's right. How may I help you," She says, turning her eyes away from the computer and smiling politely at Mark.

 

"My friend here." Jackson 'tsk's' at that. "Boyfriend. He broke his-"

 

"Jesus Crist, the doctor!" A nurse runs up and whisks Mark's man away with the _borrowed_ wheelchair.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm sorry


End file.
